


Through These Walls

by valis2



Series: Snupin Haiku [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Haiku, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-14
Updated: 2007-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valis2/pseuds/valis2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus receives a visit from Remus in Azkaban.  Second in the Snupin Haiku series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through These Walls

I have bowed before  
two masters, killed them both, and  
yet I am still chained.

I did not plan for--  
later, for this empty space,  
the grey and the black.

You are familiar,  
you fill me with revulsion  
I know all too well.

Are you a ghost, here  
to explicate my crimes, to  
gain understanding?

I'm afraid I can  
offer you nothing, except  
my blood and my bones.

They hold all truths now.  
Do not trust my mind, it will  
show you what it wants.

The Potter boy? No.  
He hasn't the stomach to  
see his handiwork.

Ah, a pardon, now  
I know you are a dream, a  
nightmare, a dark howl.

Don't touch me. I'm here  
until the end, until the  
grey. Until the black.

Your grip is--warm. It  
hurts. It burns and reminds me  
of too much. No more.

I did not ask for  
this. Your pity I hate most.  
It tastes like sulfur.

Damn you, and damn your  
Portkey, you should have left me.  
I was almost gone.

This bright, blazing place,  
this nuisance, just like you, too  
warm, too cheerful, no.

You have no right to  
claim me like this. You are not  
my newest Master,

come to see me scrape  
and lick boots once more, twice more,  
until my tongue bleeds.

There, I knew the grey,  
black, I understood the slow  
weathering of Time.

Here, in your bed, I  
understand nothing, your eyes  
watch, watch, and regret.

Do you think I am  
the reward for her death? Don't  
forget who killed her.

Or is this how you  
will draw me out, slice by slice,  
'til I beg for death,

dealt from your mercy,  
dealt from your merciful hand,  
permit me to kneel.

Perhaps you are lost,  
and you think I will find a  
way, a path for you,

one not overgrown  
with thistles and aconite,  
one lined with bluebells.

This warmth, it scalds, it  
rubs raw, I am helpless in  
its grip, its rough fire.

Why have you freed me?  
It was just as easy to  
leave me there, dead weight,

to excise me from  
your memory, to prune me  
away, to hate me.

You always were an  
idiot. I remember  
shivering, watching

your laughter, your eyes,  
the way you held a book, so  
fluid, so gentle.

I must tell you, a  
kiss cannot mend me, a soft  
touch won't make me whole,

but I will stay still  
this time. These walls are just the  
same, grey, black, and if

I just concentrate  
on breathing, in, out,  
perhaps you won't leave.


End file.
